


Nightingale

by themarginalartist



Series: Sweet Dreams for the Devil [13]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 11:12:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themarginalartist/pseuds/themarginalartist
Summary: The nightingale sings it's song, but there is no one to reply





	Nightingale

I don’t remember many things anymore.

I don’t remember my name. I don’t remember my true face. I don’t remember.

* * *

 

I do remember pain. I remember screaming for hours.

I remember hoping. Hoping for something. Something to save me.

I remember the haunting darkness. I remember the freezing cold. I remember not having anyone.

* * *

 

Sometimes, when I sleep, I see faces. Faces of people that seem familiar. I try to call out to them. No one hears me though.

Sometimes, when I sleep, I try to dance. Familiar patterns of movements in my mind. I move my feet to them. No one hears me though.

Sometimes, when I sleep, I hear music. Songs that I know the words too. I sing along to them. No one hears me though.

* * *

 

When they slide the viewer of my door I shrink back. Putting myself in the farthest corner that I can. I don’t want anymore pain.

When they enter my room I try to leave. It never works. They always lash out at me.

They want something from me. I don’t know what it is. They talk about machines and art. I don’t know what that means.

* * *

 

Today I saw a new face. No, not new, familiar but not seen in a long time.

I called out to them. They looked so sad.

I tried to sing my songs, to comfort them. They only grew sadder.

I reached for them. They ran. I closed the door for them. I was sad for them too.

* * *

 

The darkness is my only friend. They have left me in this room, this prison.

I call out into the dark. No one hears me though.

The quiet dripping out in the main room is my only friend. They have left me alone.

I call out into the dark. No one hears me though.

The lonely draft of air that comes through my room is my only friend. They have left me to die.

I call out into the dark. No one hears me though.

* * *

 

Sometimes, in the dark, I think I hear those familiar people.

Sometimes, in the dark, I think I dance to the music.

Sometimes, in the dark, I think I can sing those songs.

* * *

 

I don’t remember many things anymore.

I do remember pain. I do remember hope. I do remember being alone.

But today I remembered something new.

I remembered my name. I remembered. I stayed up for hours repeating my name over and over so that I wouldn’t forget. I fell asleep whispering my name in the dark.

* * *

 

Today I greeted those familiar faces, apologizing for forgetting them.

Today I moved to the music, dancing around my prison apologizing to the air for stepping on their feet.

Today I sang, I sang until I slept, I sang my songs.

* * *

 

Sometimes, I greet those faces, hoping to one day know their names again.

Sometimes, I dance, hoping to one day find the partner to my movements.

Sometimes, I sing, hoping to spark something else in my mind.

* * *

 

Today I heard a noise.

Today the shuffling of feet joined me.

Today someone new opened the door of my cell.

Today I saw three new faces.

Today I spoke to them. The only words I seem to be able to say anymore.

“My name is Alice.”


End file.
